


Hunger

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Guilty Dean Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19216810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Everybody in this damn town is hungering for something, and Dean thinks he’s the only one immune.Until he sees some guy lead Cas down an alleyway, that is, and then he realises he’s anything but empty inside.





	Hunger

This town, Dean decides, is fucking crazy.

The ice cream truck across the street’s rocking from side to side, the kid working it staring in open mouthed astonishment inside, along with a group of parents and kids who probably didn’t expect this when they answered the creepy possessed-music-box tinkle.

Dean figures the forty something businessman who pushed his way to the front of the crowd, waving his wallet at the vendor, and then tearing open the truck door in disgust when he was told there was a queue, will probably stuff himself until he’s sick, dead or arrested.

Nobody has a goddamn hold of themselves, but then wasn’t that also true before the creepy dessicated fucker in a wheelchair turned up. 

People taking shit because they want it, because it’s there, not caring if because they get more, somebody else gets less, and he doesn’t know anymore why he’s even bothering.

Lucifer’s Horsemen are the punchline to a bad joke; if the devil shows a little patience, they’ll end this world for him.

And they’ll deserve it.

But he can’t even get angry or despondent as he turns away from the crowd around the truck (somebody’s called 911, he can hear the sirens, but the rest of them are snapping pictures and laughing).

He doesn’t feel a damn thing about any of it, not even disappointment in himself at that.

Maybe, after all this, he’s all out of fucks to give about anything. Whatever, he’s numb like he’s been iced as he heads back to the car, thinking maybe he should just grab Sam and Cas and get the hell out of here, put the town, the apocalypse, all of it in the rear view mirror and just find somewhere to hole up with them, and Bobby, until it’s over.

Or not. He just…. He doesn’t care.

Dean slumps down into his car, watches a couple of police try to wrestle ice cream guy out of the truck; he’s got a tub of what might be chocolate clutched in his arms, stuffing handfuls of it into his mouth, even though he’s already puked down his front.

The cops end up tazing him, and dragging his ass to their car.

Show’s over, and Dean looks away, unbothered, and that’s why he sees Cas.

The angel’s leaning against the wall of the bar across the street, looking, Dean thinks, back at him, until some guy walks right past the Impala and saunters (fucking _saunters_ ) towards Cas.

Dean watches, hand going for his gun, just in case the guy’s looking for trouble.

He’s looking for something.

He crowds in on Cas, one hand catching the lapel of his trench coat, the other on the wall by the angel’s head.

Dean can’t see most of what’s going on, but Cas isn’t pushing the guy away, or moving out of touching distance.

And then the guy’s taking Cas’s hand and leading him not into the bar but past it, and Dean’s staring at their backs as they exit stage left.

Looks like Cas’s hankering after a different kind of meat, now.

Great. One of them handcuffed to the bathroom sink in the motel room, the other one about to get on his knees for a purpose that’s anything but divine.

Maybe he should be leaving them in the rear view mirror as well.

But he’s still standing in the mouth to that alleyway before he even realises he’s gotten out of the car, and sure enough douchebag stranger has Cas on his knees, fondling the angel’s face, reaching down to undo his flies and Dean just closes on him and slams his fist into the guy’s face.

He hits the ground like it called his mom a whore, and Dean watches him roll over, groaning, before trying to crawl away.

Cas just watches and then turns his eyes to Dean.

“What the fuck,” Dean says, and he doesn’t even sound like himself, can’t find anything in there to explain why he did that when _he doesn’t care_.  
“This what angels do for kicks now?”

“I can’t…”. Cas shakes his head, eyes wild, pleading. “Dean, this vessel….Jimmy…. He…”

Oh, the old blame the vessel shtick. 

“He had cravings he denied,” the angel forces out, and Dean figures Cas isn’t talking about White Castle.

“And so, what? Now you do, too?” Cravings he was going to satisfy by sucking off some fucking weirdo out back of a bar. 

No. Dean doesn’t know why that bothers him so much, but it’s like the first stirring of something, anything, he’s felt in…. 

He doesn’t know, and then he’s pulling Cas to his feet and pushing him hard against the wall, turning him at the last minute so he’s grinding hard against the angel’s ass.

“He’d have fucked you, probably taken you dry,” Dean snaps into the angel’s ear. “And I bet you’d have let him, right? ‘Cause you’re that fucking desperate for it.”

Cas keens and pushes back, not to get away, Dean realises. He knows where Dean’s heading, and he _wants_.

Dean doesn’t bother to see if anybody’s come by to see what’s going on; two guys heading down an alley, then a third guy coming after, with a small crowd and a couple of cops across the street, he’d be surprised if nobody showed some interest.

Not that it’s going to stop him doing what he’s doing, but nobody comes near anyway.

He tugs Cas’s pants down, leaves them and his underwear in a tangle around the angel’s ankles, and drags a finger up Cas’s cleft.

“You better take care of that,” he warns. “I’ll use spit if you don’t.”

Cas shudders between him and the wall, and the next time Dean touches Cas there the slick almost makes his finger skid across his skin.

“Yeah, good angel, you want it so bad, don’t you, Cas.”

“Please, Dean, please.”

Dean can think of a lot of things he’d do, right then, to hear Cas beg him like that again.

He slips a fingertip inside Cas’s hole, finds it too tight, forbidding, so clearly whatever fantasies Jimmy had about getting with a guy stayed just fantasies.

He’s probably never had anything up there but his doctor’s digits once a year, and Dean likes that.

He’s going to be the one to break Cas in, and he pushes his finger inside, _loving_ the broken moan that rewards him.

Prepping Cas takes more patience and control that Dean thought he still possessed, but Cas isn’t the only one who wants.

He’s going to claim the angel, he’s going to do it right, he’s going to make sure Cas remembers this, that Dean took him for the first time, that he never has this to give to anybody else.

He fucks into Cas in one long slow push and realises he never wants Cas to be doing this at all with anyone else.

Ever.

Cas is his, and he presses him flat against the wall, pins his wrists to the brick above his head when Cas tries to reach back for him (to push him away, probably not, to pull him in deeper, maybe, either way, this is his show, his rules) and drives in so deep that Cas actually wails.

Somebody had to have heard that, but maybe Dean’s okay with that, with somebody standing there watching him take a creature of Heaven outside a bar in some shitty alleyway.

He kind of wants a witness, and he wonders, absently, if Chuck is seeing this in one of his visions.

If he is, and he puts this in one of this fucking books, he better do it justice.

Better tell everybody how Cas is moaning like he’s been waiting since Creation for Dean Winchester’s dick, how he took something from Heaven in an alley, left him with a brick pattern scoring his cheek and cum leaking out of his ass, and…

He pulls out long enough to spin Cas around to face him, shoves back in, the angle awkward, having to pull Cas’s hips towards him, and he has his tongue down Cas’s throat when the angel finally comes.

Dean has to hold Cas up until he’s finished, and then he rests his forehead against the angel’s.

“You never,” he pants, because the thought of it, suddenly, of some stranger giving Cas this, of taking this from Cas, when really, it belongs to Dean, _Cas_ belongs to Dean….

Holy shit. Dean hastily does up his flies, and pulls Cas’s pants up and fasten them.

“Cas, Cas, you okay?” What the hell came over him?

Cas looks…. Okay, there’s no point in trying to be _polite_ about it, he looks well fucked and dazed and he’s staring at Dean like Dean is everything and Dean wishes he wouldn’t.

He just deep dicked Cas outside some shitty bar, like he passed Cas a twenty and that paid for a quick and nasty.

Slowly, Cas seems to be pulling himself together, though. He stands a little taller, a little more Angel of the Lord than somebody whose virginity Dean just took. 

And this…. Some dark, loathing little voice in Dean’s head says this was never how it was meant to go, because in those moments where Dean dared dream, those few moments where he couldn’t quash what he wanted, he was pressing Cas down into soft sheets, someplace quiet and safe, and Cas was calling his name and he was nervous, but _happy_.

When, though, has Dean ever had anything he wanted?

“Dean,” Cas says, and there he is, and Dean steps away from him.

Cas frowns, and he looks ready to say something, but Dean can imagine, and he doesn’t want to hear it.

Doesn’t deserve to.

“We better find that son of a bitch,” he says, and stalks back over to the car.

Cas follows, and gets in (the crowd’s dispersed, the ice-cream drama over) and Dean starts the engine, neither of them saying a damn thing about what just happened, and he knows neither of them will, and fuck Famine.

Fuck him.

And this crazy fucking town.


End file.
